Dusk and Fire
by general zargon
Summary: Marilyn Duskweaver had lived in Lakeshire her entire life, and nothing exciting had happened to her, but when she leaves her home in the middle of the night to investigate a strange feeling, she may get more excitement than she wanted. Rated for later.
1. Chapter 1

Marilyn Duskweaver shivered as she walked quickly down the Lakeridge Highway, mentally calling herself a hundred kinds of fool for having turned down the offer of an escort back to her small home. '"_I don't live that deep into the woods_"_ I said, _"_I can get back to my home just fine, nothing to worry about,_" _I told them. Yeah, right, famous last words!_' she shuddered as she increased her pace until she was practically jogging, which was difficult since she was wearing a dress. She irritably brushed her black hair out of her face, regretting that she hadn't thought to have tied it back before she'd left her home that morning, when the wind turned against her. She continued shivering as she wrapped her slender arms around herself, trying to ignore the way the wind blowing through the trees sounded like something whispering evilly.

She kept a wary eye out for Gnolls, who were known to patrol the Highway. She had no intention of becoming something's next meal, regardless of how stupid she had been in refusing an escort from one of the local guards or a traveling adventurer. Her dark blue eyes darted around, trying to see through the shadows in search of any danger. She rubbed her upper arms uneasily, unable to shake the feeling that something was watching her, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The desolate road both ahead and behind her only served to enhance that thought.

Marilyn shook her head frantically, trying to dislodge that foreboding thought, even as she increased her pace so that she was only a little bit shy of sprinting. She glanced to the side and saw an old, gnarled tree rumored to have been around before the Sundering. She didn't really know if she believed that, but right now she didn't care, since at the moment, that old tree told her that she was close to her warm, safe home. She slowed to a stop as she passed the old tree, even though her instincts screamed at her to maintain her pace, and she walked cautiously up to the ancient tree before she whispered to it, ignoring how stupid she probably looked, "Goodnight, Ronae Dracon, I hope to see you another day." She laid her hand gently against the aged tree, feeling the rough bark against her palm.

Ronae Dracon: High Elven for Peaceful Dragon. She had named the tree that on the spur of the moment when she had been a child of merely five years, and the name had stuck. She had named the tree that because she had childishly thought that the notch on the thick, gnarled trunk had seemed like the smiling mouth of a dragon, complete with an open mouth full of pointed wooden fangs. She had taken to hiding precious possessions inside the notch when she had turned seven years old, having thought that no one would have been able to get to them inside the mouth of a dragon, as she had thought the notch to be.

Marilyn snapped out of her memories and turned back towards the road, removing her hand from the rough bark of Ronae Dracon in the process. She walked quickly back to the road and resumed sprinting towards her house. She clutched her cloak to her, trying to make as little noise as possible as she ran. She was grateful that the wind blew her hair back from her face while she ran, as she was now able to see clearly ahead of her. Her eyes darted this way and that, trying to look in each direction at once in order to spot potential danger before it spotted her. She stifled a yelp when the wind snapped a branch snapped off one of the trees she was passing and crashed to the ground right in front of her.

She stumbled back, restraining the second scream that tried to emerge from her throat, and grasped the front of her white top over her heart, feeling as though the organ was trying to pound its' way out of her chest. She took several deep breaths, still trying to keep as quiet as possible. She gradually calmed down, relieved when her heart returned to its' normal rhythm. She immediately began moving again, swerving around the fallen branch and sprinting towards her house. She was relieved beyond measure when she saw her house and she ran as fast as she could towards it, desperate to reach the safety it promised. She reached her in record time, running up the door and swiftly jerking it open and rushing into the familiar comfort of her own home. She slammed her door and quickly bolted it shut, sighing in relief when the lock slid into place. She drew out the flint and tinder she always kept with her and walked around the room, lighting the candles she had placed around it earlier in the day. She sighed in relief, glancing around the decent-sized room as she turned and walked over to her fireplace, which was in the middle of the right wall.

Her home was a modest two bedroom house, with a kitchen, dining room, greeting room, and several spare rooms that she mostly used for storage. Her greeting room consisted of several warm rugs spread over the wooden floors, and there were three chairs placed around the fireplace, and there was an extremely comfortable couch placed against the far wall closest to the door leading to her own bedroom. The upholstery on the chairs was a soothing shade of light green, matching the rug closest to the fireplace, while the couch was a dark shade of red, otherwise known as '_Passion Red_'. There were four doors that led off from the greeting room, and one of those doors led to the master bedroom. There was a door directly across from the door leading into the house, and that was the door that led into the spare bedroom. The door that was placed almost in the middle of the left wall led into the dining room, which then led into the kitchen and further back on the left wall was the door that led into the first of the two storage rooms. And last, but certainly not least, was the door almost at the far end of the central wall, placed at the foot of the red couch, that led into the master bedroom.

Marilyn knelt down and used the flint and tinder to set fire the log sitting in the fireplace for just that purpose. She shivered, even as the fire in front of her helped to banish the chill from her skin. She couldn't explain it, but for some reason she felt as though something was chilling her from the inside out. She stood up after a moment longer and hurried into the kitchen, deciding that something warm to drink would help to warm her up. After several moments spent scurrying around the kitchen, opening cabinets, and lighting the stove, she began making some Green Garden Tea. As she poured the water into the kettle and set it on the stove, she thought about the latest commissions she'd received that day. She returned to the small dining table and sat down as she waited for the water to come to a boil, '_Let's see, the City Guardsmen need some more linen shirts, Lindsay Ashlock needs another apron, and the stable master needs a new pair of heavy linen shoes._' She was jolted out of her thoughts when the kettle began to whistle shrilly, causing her to jump in fright before she stood up and rushed over to the stove.

She put on the heavy linen gloves she had set aside for when she made tea, since given her luck the second she picked up the kettle without gloves on, she would spill hot water all over herself. She gently picked up the shrieking teakettle and quickly carried it over to the dining table. She set it down and opened the lid before taking off the gloves and retrieving the actual tea. As she measured out the correct amount of tea to add, she couldn't help feeling depressed that she got so little business. Of course, she acknowledged that if she moved to a bigger city, she might get more business, but she couldn't even think about leaving for long. She sighed softly, contenting herself with the knowledge that at least she had a semi-stable income, since the City Guardsmen always had need of new linen shirts and pants.

As soon as she judged the tea ready, she poured herself a cup and sat down at the table, thoughtfully sipping the borderline hot tea. She shivered, despite the warm liquid she was drinking, and couldn't help wondering why she was having a strange, chilled sensation all over her body, and why she couldn't seem to banish it. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of the fire crackling in the greeting room. She shifted nervously and opened her eyes again, trying to ignore the fact that for a moment, she had thought that she'd heard the sound of Gnolls cackling. She shuddered violently, barely having the thought to set down her cup of tea before she wrapped both arms tightly around her body and continued to shiver as memories flashed through her mind. She took deep breaths, trying to stem the flow of images, and after several long moments she was able to block them out.

Still shaking slightly, she reached out and picked up her cup of tea, taking a few sips in the hopes that it would help her to calm down. She sighed in relief as the warm tea did help her to stop shaking so badly, but it did nothing to stop the feeling of ice gripping her heart and flowing through the rest of her body. She frowned, unsure of what to do next as she finished drinking her cup of tea. She shifted in her seat, unsure at first of what the chilled feeling meant, but she didn't want something bad to happen because she'd done nothing about the feeling.

As a passing Draenei shaman had once said, "_Many a false step has been made by standing still_."

She stood up after that thought, walking back into the greeting room and retrieving her cloak. As she fastened the cloak securely, she mentally called herself a million kinds of fool for going out at night just because of a feeling, but she couldn't bring herself to ignore it. She grabbed the lantern that was hanging by a peg next to the door, taking a moment to light it before grabbing the lantern's handle and lifting it up. She hesitated briefly before unlocking the door and opening it, causing the light in her house to spill out and briefly illuminate the road in front of it before she resolutely walked and closed the door behind her, cutting off most of the light save her lantern. She turned back towards the road and walked out onto it before pausing, looking around warily as she debated with herself about which way to go. To go right would take her to Lakeshire, and to go left would lead her to the Crossroads.

Marilyn bit her lip uncertainly as she wrestled with herself, but then she remembered: there was an old man, more of a hermit really, who lived near the Crossroads and refused to move, no matter how many people told him that it wasn't safe to live there at his age, especially since the Gnolls around that area had been getting restless. She hesitated again, but then steeled herself and turned right before she began walking, wanting-…no, needing to know whether or not the chilled feeling inside her had something to do with the old man. She didn't know the old man well, heck, she'd hardly ever caught a glimpse of him on the rare days that he went into Lakeshire for supplies, but on those times she'd felt a weird vibe coming from the old man and had avoided him. Still, that didn't mean she wanted anything to happen to him.

She walked quickly, her eyes darting this way and that as she tried to see through the shadows to see if there was any dangers, since her lantern might very well _attract_ something instead of repelling it. She felt the sense of déjà vu as she listened to the wind howl and tried to hear passed it in order to hear the tell-tale crack of a tree branch or shrubbery being moved aside. She was thankful that she lived almost midway between the Crossroads and Lakeshire, being closer to Lakeshire, since it meant she didn't have to walk as far as she would have if she'd lived in Lakeshire proper.

As the wind howled, this time pushing her hair out of her face, she was relieved to note, she held her hand in front of her lantern, trying her best to protect it from the wind in order to keep it from going out. She squinted and saw the vague outline of a small house, even smaller than her, she was surprised to find, through the shadows. She sighed in relief, the sound quickly lost in the tossing winds, planning on just knocking on the door and asking if the old man was alright, and then running back to her own house as quickly as possible before she ran into something she wouldn't want to meet at nighttime _or_ in daytime. However, as she drew closer to the house and her lantern illuminated the front of it, she saw that the door was left open, something that no one in their right mind would do, given the fact that Gnolls, Black Dragon Whelps, and other wild beasts were likely to wander in if one wasn't careful. She bit her lip, feeling the chilled sensation inside of her increase in intensity as she drew ever closer until she stood almost in the doorway.

That was when the smell hit her, the cloying scent of fresh blood like acid in her nostrils. She slapped her free hand over her nose and mouth, fighting her natural instinct to retch at the horrible smell. She hesitantly stepped up into the doorway and held her lantern aloft to see what could be causing the smell, even though she already had the terrible feeling that she knew.

* * *

Author's Note: The old man and Marilyn Duskweaver are my creations, and not actually present in the game itself.


	2. Discovery and a Hidden Door

There was blood everywhere.

Marilyn felt tears prick her eyes as she looked at the carnage her lantern had revealed. She saw the blood splatters on the walls and felt even more ill, especially since she noticed the fact that there was a small dagger lying next to one particularly vicious splatter on the far wall. Obviously the old man had tried to defend himself from whatever had attacked him, but to no avail. She couldn't tell if there was any other blood besides that of the old man around, but she highly doubted that there was. She reluctantly stepped further into the one-room house, seeing a small bed in the corner against the far right wall, the sheets of which were as coated with blood as the rest of the room. As she continued holding the lantern aloft, she couldn't help being morbidly curious as to how whatever had done this had managed to coat almost the entire room with the old man's blood.

She shoved those thoughts violently from her head and instead wandered further into the room, trying in vain to keep from stepping in any puddles of blood. She saw that the blood on the walls was slowly dribbling down, and that some of the blood on the floor still shimmered in the light of her lantern. She stopped for a moment and looked around, seeing a small storage chest that most likely contained food, and a small dresser beside the head of the bed. She looked around some more, seeing nothing more that indicated that someone lived-…used to live there. She once more felt tears prick her eyes as she looked again at the walls covered with the evidence of the old man's demise, even as she kept the hand not holding the lantern tight against her nose and mouth.

Marilyn breathed shallowly, hating that the smell of blood was so strong that she could almost _taste_ it, and that only made her want to violently retch, though she swallowed back the bile in respect for the fact that she would basically be throwing up in the old man's remains.

She continued breathing shallowly as she took another step forward, only to trip over a previously unseen rug. She hit the ground unceremoniously, her breath coming out in a 'whoosh', the lantern rolling from her hand to rest a few feet away, though by some miracle the flame did not go out. She kept her hand across her mouth, feeling the still-wet blood soak into her simple dress, and she shuddered in revulsion as she reluctantly placed her hand in a spot that looked dry and heaved herself to her knees before levering herself back to her feet. She continued to shudder in disgust as she swiftly located the lantern and picked it up with the hand she'd used to push herself up. She grimaced as she looked down as the blood that now decorated her previously white shirt, and she could only be thankful that it didn't show that much on her dark blue skirt. She cringed in horror when she saw the blood that covered her exposed abdomen, and she managed to tear her eyes away only through sheer force of will.

Turning around quickly to see what had tripped her, she saw that her foot had snagged on the corner of a bloodstained rug. The reason she hadn't seen it, she realized, was because it was so coated with blood that it had blended in with the rest of the floor. She shuddered again, feeling the urge to retch rise even higher, though she again managed to swallow back the bile rising up her throat. She began taking shallow breaths again when she realized that she'd begun holding her breath in horror, and it was then that she noticed something bizarre about the floor she'd exposed when she had tripped over the rug.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she knelt down cautiously in a bloodstain that looked dry, grimacing when it proved otherwise by beginning to soak into her skirt. She carefully set the lantern down next to her and used her freed up hand to pull back the rest of the rug, revealing several boards that somehow seemed different than those surrounding them. However, what really shouted what was wrong were the barely visible metal hinges and the metal handle that was folded into the wood. Having discovered the trap door, she bit her lip in indecision, since she might not like whatever she found underneath the floor. She took a deep breath and tried not to gag on the horrible taste of blood that the rush of air brought with it. Steeling herself, she managed to get a grip on the handle, and then heaved, struggling to lift it, even as she distantly wondered how the now-deceased old man had ever managed to open it. She was startled out of her thoughts when she suddenly felt something _give_, and the hidden door popped open, sending her tumbling back onto her bottom as the door she'd struggled to lift hit the floor with a clatter.

Marilyn winced as she stood up and grabbed her lantern, now completely putting the fact that her clothes were soaked with blood out of her mind as her curiosity got the better of her. She saw some wooden stairs leading down into the darkness, and she hesitated once more, her common sense screaming at her to run back to her house, before she shoved any doubts out of her mind and began descending the stairs, making sure to hold her lantern in front of her. She bit her lip in worry as she continued making her way down the seemingly endless stairs.

She was beginning to think that there was no end to the stairs when her feet finally reached level ground. She raised her eyes up, having been looking at the steps to make sure that she didn't trip, and blinked in shock at the sight of a sturdy-looking door in front of her. The door was made of plain wood that seemed dull with age, and the hinges seemed rather rusted, but when she reached out and turned the handle on the door, it opened soundlessly, showing that it had gotten use and that it had been oiled recently. She blinked as she stared at the open door and into the darkness beyond it.

Steeling herself, since she'd already come this far, she stepped into the newly-discovered room. Her lantern helped to shed some light on her surroundings, revealing that she was in a room a tiny bit smaller that the house where she had found the hidden door. The room was made of stone, that much she could be sure of, and she saw that there were several candles on tall iron stands placed in the corners of the room. She looked at the walls of the room, and then looked back in front of her, at the same time taking an instinctive step forward.

What she wasn't prepared for, however, was the fact that there was a _bed_, of all things, placed in the middle of the wall opposite the doorway, the headboard touching the stone wall. She had the vague impression of simple linen sheets with some truly suspicious stains on them, before she noticed a large lump in the middle of the bed, though it was completely covered by one of the sheets adorning the bed. She cautiously took another step forward, not sure what could be under the sheet. What she wasn't prepared for was the fact that as soon as she reached the end of the bed, the lump under the sheet shifted and a barely audible groan came from the lump.

Marilyn tensed, about to throw courage to the wind and run like hell out of there, when a slim, pale hand emerged from the top of the bundle and pulled the sheet away from the face of whatever-it-was. The tailor blinked in shock as she stared into sleepy eyes the color of glowing embers set into a face so beautiful it rivaled that of the mystical gods.

She continued staring, even as numbly held up her lantern a tiny bit higher to shed more light on the man.

His skin was pale, though it was by no means an unhealthy pale; instead it was white as milk, and seemed to be just as smooth. His tousled hair was so dark it seemed to blend into the shadows, and she could plainly see that it was long, so long that she wouldn't be able to see all of it unless the man stood up, though she was uncertain of whether she wanted him to or not, since it quickly became apparent to her that the man was naked beneath the sheet. She tore her gaze away from his body, and swiftly directed her gaze back to his face.

She felt her face begin to heat up as she looked at the unknown man's face, but then she began to wonder about why he was there, especially with no clothes on. She discreetly looked around, only to realize that there were absolutely no clothes anywhere around the room. Extremely aware of the sinking feeling beginning in the pit of her stomach, she looked back at the man's face, only to freeze when she saw that he was looking at her curiously. Just curiously.

There was no fear, suspicion, or even a tiny bit of confusion in his fiery orange gaze. Marilyn shifted nervously and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, "My name is Marilyn Duskweaver." She could have kicked herself for not thinking before she spoke. She snapped out of her thoughts when the man made a confused sounding noise, and when she looked back at him, she noticed that his hands were twisting the sheet this way and that, and she also noticed how he had lowered his gaze from her when she'd spoken. She bit her lip, feeling all her uncertainties come pouring back, and she had to take several deep breaths before she could shove her doubts away again. She turned her attention back to the man, and found her focus drawn to his hands, unwittingly fascinated by them.

As she watched the pale fingers twist the thin sheets, she couldn't help thinking that they looked perfect to her: Long, thin, yet not too thin, and obviously strong, like the rest of his body. She hadn't noticed before, but she saw that the man was large, large enough that, she suspected, he would be longer than the bed if fully straightened out. She also saw, to her embarrassment, that the man's chest was smooth and muscled, though he was partially curled up, his posture clearly submissive, especially in the way that he had turned his eyes away from her face.

She forced herself to turn her attention back to the real matter: figuring out what to do about all of this.

As far as she could tell, she had three options. Option one: Run to Lakeshire and tell them about the dead old man and the very much alive young man in the hidden room. Option two: Ignore everything she'd found and just go back home. Option three: Take the young, quiet man back to her house and make sure he was alright before going to tell the Guardsmen in Lakeshire about the old man's death, conveniently forgetting about the hidden room while doing so.

She didn't really need to think about it. She chose option three.

Marilyn slowly walked around to the left of the bed, the side that was closest to the young man, who looked to be a little younger than her. She felt the man's gaze on her the second she moved towards him, though when she looked she saw that he still did not lift his eyes to her face. She stopped at the man's side, and slowly lifted her hand, pausing before she gently touched his shoulder. However, he didn't tense like she'd expected. Oh no, he merely made a soft, confused noise in the back of his throat before falling silent, his muscles completely relaxed under her hand.

She bit her lip uncertainly before asking him hesitantly, "What's your name?"

No answer.

She decided to try another question, "Are you injured?" That would certainly explain why he wasn't trying to move.

There was still no answer.

She was starting to get worried, but before she could start panicking, a thought occurred to her, and she had to ask, "Are you mute? Are you unable to speak?" That would definitely explain why he wasn't answering her.

However, he proved her wrong by subtly shaking his head, so subtly that if she hadn't been looking at him and standing right next to him, she would have missed it.

Her shoulders slumped in relief, but then she had to wonder why he didn't answer her if he could, in fact, speak. She forced herself to shove those questions into the back of her head, instead concentrating on getting the silent man to move, and preferably stand. She knelt down as best she could, not taking her other hand off of the man's shoulder, and placed her lantern on the floor. She straightened up and immediately placed her now lantern-free hand on the man's muscled bicep before gently applying the tiniest bit of pressure in pulling him towards her as she talked to him, gently encouraging him to stand, "There now, just swing one leg over the side of the bed, and then the other," Surprisingly, the man instantly did as told, easily swinging both legs over the side of the bed, moving aside the sheet as he did so.

Marilyn choked down the embarrassed shriek that threatened to rise up her throat when she saw that, yes, he had been naked under the sheet. Emphasis on the word 'had', since he was no longer under the sheet. She immediately tore her eyes away from his form, her face already turning a fierce shade of red. After a moment, she looked back at the man, making sure her gaze was well above waist-level, and then began gently urging him to stand, which he once again instantly obeyed.

Now she couldn't control the small, shocked noise that escaped her mouth, as she saw exactly how _tall_ the man was. He had to be over seven feet, even if it was just by a few inches. She restrained the urge to look at his entire body, and instead looked at his hair, since she could now see how long it was. She looked at the top of his head, and then glanced to the side, following the pitch-dark strands downwards, only to find that it was a lot longer than she had originally thought. Her gaze traced the thick, black mane, following the flowing locks until her gaze landed on the ends, which reached his ankles.

She blinked in shock before she found the will power to tear her eyes away, and she then looked back up at the silent man's face, taking extreme care not to look at the rest of his body, aside from his feet and a small peak of his well-muscled chest. She noticed that the man still wasn't looking at her face, instead apparently concentrating on the floor next to her right foot.

Marilyn frowned in confusion before shaking her head and quickly unclasping her cloak. She figured it would attract attention if she took a naked man back to her house. Sure, it was nighttime, but adventurers didn't necessarily follow strict schedules. Once she had taken her cloak off, she gently wrapped it around the silent man's shoulders. As she quickly fastened it around him, she couldn't help noticing that it only came to his knees, but when she wore it, it went to her ankles. When she pulled her hands back, satisfied that she'd fastened the cloak as securely as she could, she found herself staring into the man's fiery orange eyes.

She couldn't seem to bring herself to tear her eyes away from the silent man's confused eyes, even as she dimly noticed that one of the man's pale hands rising to gently run across the soft material. She couldn't really figure out why the man would be so confused, since all she'd really done was cover him with her cloak. Instead of pondering it further, she finally managed to look away from the man's entrancing orange eyes. She quickly retrieved her lantern and held it level with her head as she turned back to the silent man. She gently reached out her free hand and grabbed onto the hand the man was using to smooth out the material of her cloak. She held onto the man's hand and gently tugged him to follow her as she led the way to the stairs. As she was learning to expect, the man immediately followed after her, needing little prompting after her initial tug.

After they made it up the stairs, Marilyn started to worry about how the man would react to all the blood splattered around the main room, since she had figured out that the man she now held by the hand had known the old man well, for him to have lived in the hidden room, though she didn't want to think about why the silent man would have been left naked at the moment. The night had been crazy enough without adding those thoughts into the mix.

However, her slight worry proved unfounded, since all the man did when he saw the blood was look at it and then look down in understanding…and what seemed to be resignation. She wondered distantly about why he would look resigned, but then decided to ponder that another day, since her main priority was to get both herself and the silent man back to her home in one piece.

She held her breath, since both her hands were occupied, as she quickly led the man to the door, and out into the fresh air. She took a deep breath the minute they were out, glad that they were away from that horrible scene. She didn't pause, however, continuing to tug the silent man in the direction of her house, though she determinedly refused to look back at him, partly because she had to concentrate on leading them, and partly because the wind was against him, and she didn't want to chance seeing a full frontal view of the man she was currently leading. Not that she wouldn't like seeing him, don't get her wrong, but she would feel too much like a peeping tom if she did, even though the man seemed to not mind the fact that he was naked.

Marilyn shoved her thoughts to the side, concentrating on looking ahead and keeping an eye out for danger. She was relieved, however, that they were close to her home and they had seen neither hide nor hair of Gnolls or a single adventurer. She was extremely conscious of the fact that the man whose hand she held was following her compliantly. She couldn't help wondering why that was, but then she told herself, '_Shove all thoughts to the side and concentrate on getting both you and him back to your house in one piece. There will be time to ask questions later once you're both inside, out of harm's way, and he's dressed!_' She was pretty sure that she would have something that would fit him.


End file.
